Well Played, Halle Berry

I miss Halle Berry’s kicky short haircut, the one that was practically her signature for such a long time. Not that she can’t rock a full head of hair, but the pixie was cute on her and she is one of those rare individuals with a perfect face that can carry off that sort of cut.

However, that’s really the only thing I can say about her that isn’t a bit disgustingly glowing. Obviously, I don’t know her personally, but…

… the woman sure can wear a dress. It’d be very easy for that neckline to look overly constrictive, or to push things down or up or out in an awkward way, or even to sit low enough that the effect is slightly droopy. But not on Halle. Of course. Everything looks properly lush and plump and fluffed, and the sheen of the dress is stunning against her lovely skin.

Bitch.

Damn, I can’t even work up a nice, satisfying resentment of her, no matter how hard I try. I’m just happy for her and I kind of want her to take me shopping. Now, as I said, I don’t know her, so maybe she’s a complete nightmare and likes to wash her dishes with bourbon and eats nails and uses kittens to scrub the bathroom floor. I don’t know her life. But it certainly is a pleasure to watch her wear clothes, and she manages to do it without exuding any kind of arrogance — there’s not really any of that “Yeah, I’m hot, you envious sadsacks, and I KNOW IT, so SUCK ON YOUR SORRY ASSES” stuff going on, nor any desperation for attention; she just seems to go out there and quietly glow and avoid making a spectacle of herself. She is her own best accessory, and she’s developed a real knack for picking clothes that enhance her rather than wear her.